


Killing Me Softly

by VioletNuisance



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Smut, Villains, cowritten, hero!Sal, im bad at tags like always, masks arent used as prosthesis in this, obviously angst, this is a hero/villain au so yuh, villain!Larry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletNuisance/pseuds/VioletNuisance
Summary: I'm getting jiggy with a rifle.I pull the trigger with my eyes closed, hoping to hit you somewhere vital.And when I miss, you come and kiss me with a smile.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	1. Choke

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends, the Sally Face fandom might be dying. But this au has been in the works for over a year, so we're hoping some of you guys will enjoy it. This is cowritten with @Ciphernetics. He also has an insta, @EldritchTea, if ya wanna check that out.
> 
> But yeah, super proud of this au! It's a superhero/villain au. Heroes and villains wears masks in this just to hide their identity. They're not used for prosthetic means.

The sharp tang of blood permeated the air in the poorly ventilated apartment room. If anyone had walked in, they would’ve known something was askew from the smell alone. Larry didn’t particularly notice the scent, having grown used to it by now. Instead, he was much more worried about the dried blood caked under his short fingernails. A string of grumbles fell from his mouth as he turned on the kitchen sink, watching the water turn pink when he stuck his hands under the running faucet.

He was alone on this mission. It was supposed to be an easy operation. Enter the room, kill the girl, and leave. Her boyfriend stumbling in drunk during the middle of the assault was not part of the plan. It had been a nuisance, but that was all it had been. He had easily overpowered both of them. Still, the extra effort it required had left him in a foul mood. 

Larry pursed his lips as he scrubbed his hands with the bar of soap that rested by the sink. It was lemon-scented. He wondered if the girl had particularly liked lemon, or if it was just on sale the day she went soap shopping. The homes of his victims always fascinated him. He liked the morbid game of guessing the type of person they were. From the dog that had scurried into its owner’s bedroom as soon as he pulled out his knife, he assumed she had been an animal lover. From the empty syringes and crushed cans, he assumed she was also a druggie, shooting it up with her abusive boyfriend.

He made a disapproving hum as he turned the sink off and patted his hands dry on the front of his hoodie. His eyes stared at himself numbly for a second in the reflection of the sink, tracing over the two purple slash designs that went through the right eye of his otherwise white mask. There didn’t seem to be any missed blood splatters, so he directed his attention elsewhere. He eyed his nails, making sure they were cleaned to his satisfaction, as he approached the bathroom now. The scent of blood grew stronger, and even Larry’s nose was offended by the metallic sting. He peeked through the ajar door, making sure both bodies were still laid in the tub (who knew, maybe one day one of his victims would turn into a zombie and walk away), before closing the door. 

Heaving a sigh, he congratulated himself on another job well done. His hands grabbed his black jacket off of the dining room chair as he approached the door to the apartment hallway. It was time to blow this popsicle stand, and report back to Red. Then, maybe he could sneak back into his college dorm, get the rest of his rhetoric homework done, and  _ relax. _

Larry had no sooner shimmied his jacket onto his body when the apartment door suddenly swung open. At first, he tensed, immediately pulling out a knife, but then he saw who had come to visit and relaxed a bit.

“I’m flattered that you feel the need to be my paparazzi, but I really don’t have time for this today,” Larry dryly joked, not an ounce of humor in his voice. Sal Fisher just stared at him, eyes unreadable behind that stupid mask. Larry wondered why he even wore it. They both knew Sal’s identity had long ago been leaked to him. 

Sal stared back at him, mind racing. He swallowed the normal emotional outburst that he always felt when he caught Malice already cleaned up, bodies stowed away somewhere. Perhaps, in the end, he was just that bad at timing. Or, perhaps, Malice was just that skillful in doing his part quickly. 

“Don’t have your sidekick today? Did Shade finally give up on trying to detain me? Or do you seriously think you can take me on all by yourself?” Larry snarked, his annoyance growing with every second. He just wanted to go home. Sal shut the door behind him, and Larry heard the other reach behind him and lock it. His exasperation only grew, yet he pocketed his knife.

Sal wetted his mauled lips before he decided to respond to his remark, thinking his words out. "Shade’s not a sidekick. We're a team." He deadpanned, completely ignoring the rest of the bull shit Malice decided to spew.

“As I said, I really don’t have time for this right now-”

"When has someone coming to bust you ever been a convenience?" Sal cocked his head to the side, panning his vision to the floor for a moment. Despite trying to ignore the other’s words, he did feel vulnerable without his partner by his side.

Sal would admit Shade was snarky and had more of an aggressive bite than he admittedly did. Sal was the more reasonable out of the both of them, but it’d been a hot minute since he was all alone on any sort of mission. Especially anything involving Malice. For a second, he, himself, wondered what he was doing here without his partner. However, after a moment, he snapped his eyes back up to Larry.

"I'm sure you have a few moments to spare, you did, after all, sign up for these kinds of encounters." He sprawled his hands out near his face, "choosing to be a villain and all." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, rubbing his thumb against a pocket knife as he took a few glides towards him. "I've got a question for you. Don't you ever get bored of being a piece of shit to humanity?"

Larry didn’t have time to bristle at Sal’s question. He was too busy studying the other, how Sal’s hands dug themselves into his pockets as he approached. He couldn’t help but give a sarcastic, unbelieving smile. Lord, help him. This idiot was about to pull a weapon on him. Would it be a knife or a gun though? Or a syringe filled with a suspicious tranquilizer?

_ C’mon Sally, show me what you’re hiding there. _

Realizing that mercy would once again be swept off the table, and he wouldn’t be able to just return home, he adapted. Sal had never beat him at his own game, even when accompanied by others. Really, Larry giving Sal the option to just leave had been the nicest thing he could’ve ever offered him. If Sal wanted his pride beat down, so be it.

“I’ve got a question for  _ you _ ,” Larry echoed back, denying Sal an answer. “Don’t you ever get frustrated realizing that you’re a piece of shit “hero” who can’t save one person?” The words were light and playful, but the effect they had on Sal was anything but. Larry watched on, excitement gleaming in his eyes, as Sal stiffened. The first seed of doubt had been planted, but it still wasn’t enough to provoke the hero into brandishing whatever he was carrying.

“And honestly, why are you even trying to stop me on your own? You know you can’t, and we both know that’s not just me being cocky,” Larry stated. His words came out almost apologetic as if he was trying to reason with a child throwing a tantrum.

“Unless!” Larry extended a hand out to Sal as he took a step forward. “You want the whole hero-turned-bad experience.” His hand rested on Sal’s shoulder, and he realized that the other was shaking. From fear or fury, he wasn’t sure. “In which I’d be more than happy to help you out,” Larry purred, leaning down. 

_ Come on, you’re almost there. _

“Is that what you want? Do you want me to make your legs tremble while the dead bodies listen in-“ Larry was cut off as Sal finally snapped, hand swinging out of his pocket. Immediately, his hand curled around Sal’s throat, using what energy he had left to slam the hero back against the door.

Sal gasped for the breath that had been knocked out of him as Larry’s free hand wrapped around his wrist. “Drop it,” Larry growled. He heard the other spit some sort of profanity out at him, but his fingers stayed clenched around the knife. Heaving a sigh, Larry desperately searched for the pressure point on Sal’s wrist, digging into it. He gave a hum when they both heard the knife hit the floor. Not releasing Sal, he placed his foot atop the weapon before kicking it back, sending it skidding across the room.

“Are you happy? Is this what you wanted? God, you’re so lucky that I have no interest in cleaning up another body,” Larry seethed, hitting Sal’s head back against the door once more. “Damnit Surge, you need to learn your limits.”

"Fuck you," Sal heaved, his now beseeched hand reaching up to claw at the squeezing hand around his throat. Malice's grip was anything but lackluster and was causing his head to spin and his vision to blur. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment. 

Sal despised his mask in this very moment, his already stuffy supply of oxygen was rapidly plummeting the more Malice’s eyes bored into him, spitting his venom. Sal promptly realized after a few agonizing seconds that clawing at this guy's hand wasn't doing him much good, his grip wasn't lessening, and with the lack of nails, Sal was almost sure he was due to pass out any second now. In a daze, he snaked his fingers underneath the other’s palm, yanking a few of his fingers back just enough to hear a weak string of cracks.

Malice wrenched his hand back finally. And Sal took this as his ultimate chance, half-assedly kneeing him in the gut, and briskly bolting forwards past him. He stumbled forwards as he finally felt able to breath again, gulping down air like his life depended on it. Unfortunately, he knew he couldn't have pulled off enough strength to have broken the other’s fingers despite how much he wanted to.

"My...My limits?" His arms reached back, unbuckling the bottom clasps of his mask, moving it upwards just enough to feel the cool air nip against his clammy skin. He let out a weak laugh. "In cause, you couldn't tell already, I don't exactly have any fucking limits."

He distanced himself more letting his back hit against the hard kitchen counter. "If I'm such a shit hero, why haven't you killed me yet then?" He questioned as he rubbed lazily at the strained handprints against his neck as he looked him up and down.

Maybe Sal couldn't one-up Malice at this very moment, but he could always push his buttons in the damn meantime. "I must be of some use to you, cause every fucking chance you get to kill me you chicken out. If I'm a shit hero..." He pauses, glaring at him. "You're an even shittier villain." Refastening the clasps of his mask, he opened his mouth to add on. "Let me guess... you really are just waiting for me to join you after all, isn't it?" 

He shook his head. 

"That's pathetic, even for you. There's no fucking way." He lifted himself off from against the counter and took a stride towards him. "If I'm so bad at what I do, you wouldn't even want me on your side." Sal looked him up and down once more. "Unless..." He paused. "You're lying." Despite his defiant attitude, he cursed himself under his breath. He couldn’t even begin to believe that he’d given Malice the chance to disarm him.

_ Definitely not one of his brightest moments _ .

He moved towards Malice, keeping a respectable amount of distance. Sal figured he was pulling off a risky move even stepping towards him with no knife, but he just wanted at least one answer instead of one of Larry's fucking games.

"Why don't you just tell me why you're keeping me alive, what's the fucking price? A tabloid? Riches? Do I have a bounty on my fuckin' head that's going to bring you ultimate power? What's the reason?"

Larry grimaced, once again recalling the nuances of their secret identities.  _ What do I get for keeping you around? An A+ on our upcoming physics exam for one. _

If Larry was in Sal’s position, maybe he’d think the same. That he was just toying with him as a plaything long enough to capture and deliver him for some life-changing reward. God, he almost wished that was the reason! It’d be easier to admit than revealing that he actually knows Sal outside of their hero and villain shenanigans, knows that Sal has a crush on his nonvillain self and gives him free tutoring because of it. If it hadn’t been for the man standing in front of him, he probably would’ve flunked out the class a while ago. Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in physics though. Even if they had a quiz tomorrow-

“Y’know, for someone that lost their knife,” Larry started, stepping towards Sal and crossing over into the kitchen. He watched the other be forced to step back as he pressed forward with twisted delight. A smile tugged at his crooked lips as he watched Sal realize he was out of space. “You’re getting awfully mouthy.”

The last sentence turned from playful threatening into a snarl, and Larry finally crushed the distance between them. His own hands slammed themselves down on the kitchen counter, capturing Sal between himself and the furniture. He had always loved cornering Sal when it had just been the two of him, Shade off somewhere else. However, there wasn’t the same spark of fear in Sal that there usually was. They both knew he wasn’t going to kill him. He had already passed up too many opportunities. His temporary smile fell down into a grimace.

“You’re right. I have no intention of killing you yet,” he admitted. There was no point in putting on a front that he couldn’t keep up with. His eyes flicked down to see the minimal bruising on Sal’s throat then back up, searching for those eyes behind the mask. “However,” he teased, leaning forward. He could feel Sal try to lean away as their chests pressed together. “That doesn’t mean I have any problem with hurting you just a little. Just enough for you to worry about dying.”

He rested his masked forehead against Sal’s, staring him down. There had never been a time where he wanted to know so desperately what was going through the other’s mind. “If you actually want answers though, you’re gonna have to do a little something for me,” Larry explained, standing back straight up. One of his hands came up to trace a finger along the edge of Sal’s mask. “You can start by taking this off, Surge.”

This was well―  _ unexpected _ to say the least. That was it? All Malice wanted for him to do was take off his mask despite the fact he already knew what he looked like underneath it? That seemed so easy. 

_ Too easy.  _

He could have asked for anything, anything at all, and he went with that? Sal's face spoke of his unquestionable confusion, his eyes narrowing at Malice as the bridge of his nose continued to scrunch up in complete dismay. Sure, Sal didn't exactly know the entirety of Malice's character, but he confidently had dealt with him enough to understand he's sadistic in his endeavors and was never the type to promote child's play. Without securing something in his grasp at the very least.

And what more was he going to gain from a face he's already seen?

There was hesitance from the other, and Malice’s eyes narrowed. He stood completely up, no longer bracketing Sal in. “Are you thinking about running? Think you can make it back to your knife?” Malice’s head turned to look at where the blade laid, and he crossed his arms. “Go ahead, I’ll even be nice and give you a head start. That won’t get you the answers you’re looking for though.”

Larry stepped to the side. Sal was completely free to make a mad dash if he wanted. It’d definitely be amusing for the brunet no matter what Sal chose. He cocked his head, a wicked grin spreading onto his face.

_ What’s it going to be Sally? _

Malice was right, he needed his knife. It'd be idiotic of him to continue this ordeal without being armed after the fact Malice had already rolled out with choking him. Sal hadn't come here for a fight, in fact, he wasn't originally planning to displease Malice at all. If anything he wanted to reason with him, if that was even remotely possible.

God, he was a fucking idiot. He derailed this entire thing by himself, and himself alone, just being in Malice’s presence pissed him off to no end, but the fact he'd let him get under his skin so fast as to forget the entire reason he showed up here? He should've let Shade tag along as he asked.

His eyes darted from the knife Malice had haphazardly pointed out back to his brindled expectant gaze. He sighed in utter defeat. There was no way Malice wasn’t going to laugh this one out later. He walked to grab his knife, knowing running would further provoke his notorious arch-nemesis.

He pushed the blade back into its confines, pocketing it in his jeans and continued to hold his hands up as he walked back to Larry. "That's really all you want?" He asked. He settled against the counter, planting his hands behind him. He's not here to initiate a fight, and perhaps if he made it known he's not holding onto his weapon Malice won't try anything. So he hoped.

"We're not supposed to do that, ya know, take off our masks." He stated. It's a dumbass thing to say, and he knows Malice is aware. He knows Malice already knows what he looks like underneath it already, having pieced together his identity a while back.

_ Wait― _

If Malice already knew what he looked like underneath than what was the harm done? He'd get his answers, Malice would get something he's already seen before. It was still a win-win situation. He narrowed his eyes. It’s a risky move to play one of Malice’s games, but nonetheless Sal caught himself reaching back to unfasten the clasps, indulging in the other’s wishes. His stray hand sprawled against the front of his mask as he slowly eased it away from his face. 

"Is this... Is this really it?" He asked, a scowl against his lips. He clutched the mask against his chest. "Why would you just wanna see my face?" He looked down, feeling a bit judged, but shook his head. "Nevermind that, deals a deal, right?"

  
  
  


Larry knew that heroes were supposed to have pure hearts. But honestly, to be this trusting of Malice? That sounded more like dumbassery than pure intent. Unless, it wasn’t pure intent of course. He couldn’t rule out the possibility that the other was just waiting for the right minute to strike. He had fetched his knife after all.

Larry chuckled, recalling the timid walk to the weapon, and how Sal held his hands up as he came back. It was almost  _ cute _ . He supposed the cautious walk was the only thing that had saved Sal though. If he had made a run for it, Larry would’ve immediately pounced. With two knives, he could’ve shoved one through either of Sal’s hands, cruelly pinning him down somewhere. His eyes ran their gaze over Sal’s hands that now held his mask at the thought before diverting their attention back to the scarred face.

Or maybe, Sal wasn’t waiting for the opportune moment to fight back. While book smart, he had never been street smart, had he? That was more of his little sidekick’s thing. But then, why would Sal actually be going through with all of this? It couldn’t actually be trust, could it? Surely, he wasn’t that stupid. Maybe fear? Or maybe, just maybe, Sal got a kick out of all this, liked being rendered helpless. Larry snorted, dismissing the notion. He highly doubted Nockfell’s little hero would rub one out to something so sinister.

Now, how to proceed... Larry was confident in his abilities, but he never wanted to become totally cocky. Sal having his knife was a small annoyance, but he was sure he could work around the problem. It wouldn’t be too difficult to disarm the other again, but he’d rather avoid a cut if he could. “Why wouldn’t I want to see something so pretty?” 

_ Nope, reel it back in a bit. _

Flatteries never worked on Sal. The little shit’s mind was a steel trap. “I mean, it’s kind of unnerving never seeing your face when we fight. Makes it seem like you’re stone-faced even though I know that’s not the case.” Larry stepped in front of Sal again, both hands coming to rest at the sides of the other’s face. His fingers trailed against the uneven terrain curiously. He always had wondered what exactly left Sal like this. After a few seconds of quiet inspection, one of his fingers traced down to Sal’s battered lips, gently tapping them.

“If I do recall correctly, I said you wouldn’t get your answers if you fetched that pesky knife of yours. Maybe I’d be so kind as to let that go if you did just a little bit more for me,” he teased, voice dripping like spoiled honey. Larry could see the distrust in the other’s eyes, but he pressed on. Where one finger had been, now two tapped at Sal’s mouth. “Open up.”

Sal had to admit he had it on the rise, the moment he allowed himself to obey one of Larry's orders, he should have known Larry was going to exploit it and make Sal into something malleable when that wasn't what he was. The entire string of actions that lead him here were more than agitating, to say the least, but there was only one direction to go from here and that was up. Taking a chance, he parted his lips.

Larry noticed that much like with the mask, there was hesitance. He could hardly blame him, but he also wasn’t one to be patient. With his free hand, he gripped Sal’s face hard, fingers digging into the sensitive skin. It didn’t take long for his mouth to open wider from the bruising touch. “Good boy, don’t bite.”

At first, Larry was gentle. His fingers prodded at the new area, sliding against the bottom of Sal’s top row of teeth and finding that they were a bit snaggled. He gave a contemplative hum as he pressed the pads of his finger down harder against Sal’s teeth. He was genuinely curious. Were Sal’s teeth skewed from the same thing that had tore his face apart? His fingers curled, and his nails dragged up, finding the other’s gums. With one finger, he dragged his upper lip up, and Larry had to stifle a laugh. The situation did look absurd. 

When he grew tired of the mindless touches, he pressed on deeper, exposing the real reason he wanted Sal to open up. Immediately, a hand shot up to grab at his wrist as Larry shoved his fingers down Sal’s throat. He paid the invasive touch no mind, finger sliding against the inner walls of Sal’s throat. It didn’t take long for him to feel the other start to gag. He kept at it for a few more heartbeats, digits digging into the back of Sal’s throat before he retracted and turned the other around to face the sink. He wiped his saliva slicked hand against his pants as he listened to Sal gag, trying not to vomit. He gave him a few minutes to calm down before speaking.

“Even if you have a gag reflex, you’re overreacting by far,” Larry sighed, waiting for Sal to face him. When his wish was granted, he placed his hands atop Sal’s shoulders, pressing down. It took a little bit before Sal got the memo and dropped to his knees. 

Sal's entire body heated up in what he could only parade as humiliation the moment his knees hit the ground, for fuck's sake, on his knees, completely unmasked. Did he just have this guy's fingers shoved into his mouth and almost throw up because of it? Better yet how the hell could he allow himself to have been so gullible on this one? Of course, Larry was going to pull out a play on words. It was a deed he always seemed to want to commit. 

God, he was really drilling the act of mentally scolding himself for this fuck up, at least now he'd be more vigilant. Or so he hoped.

Larry pushed a hand beneath the hood of Sal’s sweatshirt, brushing a strand of eccentric blue hair out of Sal’s face before breaking their contact. He took a moment to just smile at Sal, watching the hero return it with a glare. “Now, if you’d actually like your answer, I’d suggest trying not to choke this time.” Larry’s hands went to undo his belt, and he watched as realization struck Sal. “Unless… you’d rather just call it quits now. I keep my secrets, and we could both go home unscathed.”

  
His hands tugs harder on his belt, unclasping it. “What’s it going to be,  _ hero?” _


	2. Bruise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's kinda long, so strap up.
> 
> As always, @Ciphernetics is the co author of this. His insta is @EldritchTea if you'd like to heck out his lovely art. And my insta is @VioletNuisance if you'd like to check out my art as well. We've both been doing pieces related to this fic uwu

Sal had to admit he had it on the rise the moment he allowed himself to obey one of Malice’s orders. He should have known Malice was going to exploit it and make Sal into something malleable when that  _ wasn't _ what he was. The entire string of actions that led him there were more than agitating, but there was only one direction to go from there and that was up. 

He didn’t bother looking up at Malice, instead, he eyed at the ground, which unalarmingly enough didn’t have a spec of dirt on it. He supposed it was from one of Malice’s cleaning feuds; he always cleaned the houses he attacked, not wanting to leave evidence to his identity and all. It wasn't until he heard the clink of metal from Malice’s belt that his heart sank. The other’s intentions hit him like a freight train.. 

A hand shot up to Malice’s knuckles, stopping him. "Wait―!" 

He looked up at him, completely ignoring how distasteful the view must be from his position. "You don't have to do this." He pleaded. Sal was a firm believer that no one could be that heartless. "You don't want to do this." His hand slid down, landing flat on the ground. He took the time to lift his other hand to wipe at the drool dribbling from his lacerated mouth due to Malice’s earlier endeavors, and he swore he can taste the soap that Malice sporadically scrubbed his hands and nails with.

"Hear me out, please. Look, I don't know who you are, other than the fact you do well..."

He gestured to the entire room, " _ This _ , in your spare time." He couldn't stand the awkwardness that came with looking Malice directly in the eyes during all of this, so his gaze flits elsewhere.

"You must have some mortality in you. There's no way a guy like you can waltz around unmasked at any point in their lifetime if they carry on about like this. It's a gimmick isn't it?" He questioned softly, noticing he'd been mindlessly toying with his fingers. Bending his fingers to and fro was a nervous habit of his, and he forcibly stilled his hands, not wanting to give his anxiousness away. 

"I know you were toying with me earlier, the whole 'hero gone bad' thing?" He laughed lightly as he looked off, swallowing hard before continuing. "Well, I'm not with this, why aren't you one of us? You'd be the talk of the town, don't let this inflate your ego or anything, but you're smart. You know what the hell you're doing."

_ A hell of a lot smarter than me, that's for sure. _

For once, Larry felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He blinked, feeling frozen, before his hands refastened his belt. At the moment, he didn’t know whether to snap Sal’s neck or laugh. A hard sigh left his lips before he crouched down, eye to eye with Sal.

“Sal, your power is electricity manipulation. What’s mine?” Larry’s voice was uncharacteristically monotone, devoid of any emotion. Till, he looked at the other, waiting at full attention for a response. But, the words hung in the air, and an answer was never offered. Suddenly, Malice felt  _ hurt _ . It was a laughable notion, but he was genuinely upset that the man in front of him never once thought to ask anyone what it was. How long had they been fighting? A few months? 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve got to be. There’s no way that you don’t know what mine is,” he laughed, bitter and dry. Still, the other never gave an answer, and Malice realized he really didn’t know. “Emotional manipulation,” he bluntly stated.

They were just two words, but the attitude of the room immediately shifted. The blue eyes before him changed from shining with nervousness to gazing at him with pity, and Larry felt disgusted. He knew what Sal was thinking even if he wouldn’t say it. Psychological powers were outlawed years ago due to being “cruel and unusual” when used against others. Any villain with a variety of power was usually just a runaway, doing anything to not have it ripped away from them. Malice wasn't an exception.

"Emotional manipulation," he parroted. Sal’s once mindful gaze cast down as he brought his knees to his chest. "Emotional... Manipulation..." He murmured once more to himself in complete shock. After that, he sat there in silent solitude for a hot moment, letting the acknowledgment simmer deep into his bones. He supposed it made sense, after all, Malice’s callous nature easily could have derived from him having no choice but to turn his nose to what he originally sought after.

That fact left Sal feeling empty. 

He couldn't imagine the pain this man had to go through, the mental turmoil that he subjected to himself only to keep his powers. And there was nothing he, as a hero, could do about it. What was so heroic about a system that tore down people whose powers were suddenly claimed to have been unworthy of heroic qualities? What was a hero that couldn't help someone who needed help? Nothing.

_ No, it wasn't like that. It was nothing like that. _ He cursed himself.  _ There had to be a warranted reason. _

“The court ruling came right before my certification. If it had been delayed for just another week, I would’ve been on your side temporarily,” Larry added. His eyes averted from Sal’s prying gaze. For the first time in the other’s company, he felt  _ exposed _ , and that didn’t sit with him well. He stood back up, putting some distance between them.

“So no, I’m afraid that I can’t switch to your side. We both know I couldn’t anyways with everything I’ve done,” Larry grumbled, hand digging into his pocket. His fingers gripped around his own knife’s handle, brandishing it. “As for your earlier question, there  _ is _ a reason I haven’t killed you. In all honesty, I never intend on killing you. Not to say I won’t if you force my hand.”

Larry studied the blade for a second, staring at his warped reflection in it. His eyes jumped back up to Surge after a second, squinting. Concentrating, he jerked his hand back before sending the knife flying forward. A dark laugh rumbled in his chest when Surge flinched as the blade stuck in the counter, right above his head. “I’m not killing you because I want to see you switch sides. I want to see that heroic little spirit of yours crumble.”

_ Not the truth, but also not a complete lie. A half-truth. _

"Like you,” Sal whispered scornfully beneath his breath. Malice more than likely didn’t catch it, as it was barely audible.

Sal straightened his legs out, the subtle pop of his knee caps reminding him of exactly where he was, and exactly who was in his presence. Pushing himself away from the counter, he straightened up, only to kneel back down to fetch the knife that Malice had thrown at him only minutes prior. 

Larry spun on his heel against his better judgment. It was never a safe play to turn your back to your enemy, even if he highly doubted Sal was going to charge him. Still, the prickling anxiety made him turn back around to address the other after he had made it back to the living room. You owe me,” he merely stated. To him, finger fucking Sal’s mouth was not a good enough payment for the information he had just offered. “And I’ve heard that it’s never a great thing when the hero is in the villain’s debt.”

"Hey, look," Sal looked up at him, and despite the radiance of disgust coming off of Malice, he continued. "I'm sorry about all of that. Genuinely, if I had known I wouldn't have brought it up." He truly felt compassion for him. He never thought he could feel compassion for someone who's killed so many people. People who more than likely didn't deserve to die.

His face twisted as his compassion turned sour in only a matter of seconds.

"Wait, does that mean you've..." He trailed off, waving the knife around, "messed with my emotions before?" He wouldn't put it against him if he had. They were enemies after all.

“No, I’ve never manipulated your emotions. I can’t. You’d know that if you ever even took a gander at who you’re fighting,” Larry gruffed. It was true. Every hero and villain’s power was documented on public record. “Everyone’s ability has a setback.”

Larry approached the now standing Sal once more much to his own distaste. He wanted to leave, but the other was like a parasite. Malice had to figure him out. Surely, no one could actually be that naive. And who knew when he’d get the chance to have Surge alone again? 

His hands rested against Sal’s face, thumbs pressing light circles over his scars. A few strands of Surge’s wily hair tickled the backs of his hands, and a harsh exhale escaped Larry. This really was so stupid. Still, he pushed his hands further, fingers disappearing under the sea of hair as his thumbs rested against cheekbones. For a moment, they both paused with Larry just holding him. 

He wanted to ravish the man beneath him. He wanted to push him back against the counter once more, press a hand against his eyes, and let his own mouth trail against Sal’s neck. The thought of the other panting, fingers curling against his body as he pushed Malice lower and lower was enough to cause his body to warm. 

His thoughts broke as he could feel his own hands grow clammy against Sal’s skin. He blinked, refocusing his vision on the other before an even more carnal need thrummed under his skin. No, what he really wanted was for Sal to hurt. He wanted to snap his neck and watch his body go limp in his hands.

“I can’t manipulate your emotions because my victim has to feel romantic attraction towards me,” Malice explained as his hands fell back down to Sal’s shoulders. He shook his head, a chuckle at his lips. “And I have to say your absence of attraction wounds my pride.”

Larry’s eyes searched, finding the knife that Sal still held. Now, that was genuinely a problem. Flinging the thing at Sal had probably been his most careless action so far. 

  
  


Sal let out a long, slow breath, feeling relatively safe for a second. Still, the fact That Malice thought he still owed him pricked him. “What do you want from me?” He asked, cutting to the chase.

Larry snickered at that, a smile gracing his lips beneath the mask. “You want to repay your debt already?” His hands pushed Sal a little, forcing the edge of the counter to dig into his back. Not enough to pose a threat, just enough to be uncomfortable. “Since I’m assuming you don’t want to be bent against the counter, you could tell me who your partner is. The one who knows every verse in the bible and can put up the shields? Y’know, Shade? What’s his actual name, or you could just tell me if he goes to the same university as us?” The words came out so fast that Malice never realized the tidbit of information that he leaked about his identity.

In that instant, Surge was hit with the reality that he wasn't safe as a hero or as a casual civilian. Just the fact the man he'd been brawling with for what felt like an eternity just so happened to be enrolled in his very own university sent shivers down his spine. What were the odds? Better yet what would Shade do in these kinds of circumstances?

He pressed Sal further against the counter, feeling the other tense. Instinctively, his eyes dropped back down to the knife. Sal wouldn’t stab him at this point, right? The bastard had been acting so childish, so trusting, so  _ idiotic _ . Still, the worry was present. He’d rather walk out of here unscathed than with a stab wound in his side.

“But if your hero code really prevents you from doing that, I have no problem taking something else from you,” Malice seethed, leaning forward. “You could always just let me hurt you a little. Just enough to hear you cry out. I’m sure your whimpers are just as lovely as the rest of you.”

Sal shook his head in disdain. Had Malice forgotten that flattery wasn't a strategy that would be proven fruitful for him? No matter how much he tried to incorporate it? Conceivably, making a bolt for it wasn't a poor option in the beginning. Sal wished it was still an open offer, unluckily for him, he'd seized himself far too deep on this one, unfortunately.

He blinked perplexed, his body coated in weak welcoming relief, "So you're giving me three options after all? How generous of you." An artificial smile sketched it's way across his lips as they came to a close.

"You wanna bend me over this counter?" He hummed softly, nodding his head in false understanding. He lurched forward a bit, pressing against him, a palm flat against Malice’s chest. "But which one do you desire more?" He let the knife tap against the side of the counter as his palm gripped at the loose fabric of Malice’s hoodie. "Do you wanna know who my partner is?" His voice dipped. “Or are you more interested in watching me prep myself for you to get me sprawled out on this counter properly?" His functioning eye rolled away from him, "Or, I don't know, hurting me and possibly not even getting those whimpers you're talking about."

He peered back at him, unclenching his palm to pat at his chest, smoothing out the cotton earnestly. "You've given me a  _ lot _ of good options." None of which are in Surge’s favor. He'd have a fuck ton of explaining to do to Shade when he returned back to his rightful place.

He sighed softly, beckoning for Malice to grasp the notice of it so he'd pay close attention to him. "I'd personally pick whichever one makes you take your clothes off the fastest." He admitted, his eyes gleaming at him, "so which one is that again?"

Larry’s eyes narrowed as his mind desperately tried to latch onto whatever plan Surge was forming but came up empty-handed. Still, it didn’t make sense. What would have pushed a switch in Sal that created the cocky hero in front of him from the poor, pleading thing that he had been? Once again though, he can’t pinpoint anything.  _ It didn’t make sense. _

He let out a groan at his frustrations which he hoped the other mistook as a reaction from Sal’s words. The tapping of Sal’s knife disrupted the otherwise silent room. Malice’s time was running low, he knew, and for once, he was not confident in his plan of actions.

“Oh? You actually want me to fuck you?” Malice doesn’t have to feign his surprised tone. He’s just not surprised for the right reason. Trying to calm himself, he let his voice lower. “But how do you want it? Want me to fuck you quick and get it over with? Or does the hero want it nice and slow?”

Malice hadn’t been one to keep his hands to himself. He enjoyed touching Surge, whether it was pinning him to a wall or firmly holding his head in place. There was something exciting about feeling your enemy against you. Surge knew his typical mannerisms, so he hoped his straying hands were cataloged as his usual actions.

“As flattered as I am Sally, would it really speak well of the hero to have my cum dripping out of you?” Malice questioned, raising an eyebrow, not that Sal could see. “That’s not to say I’m opposed. If anything, quite the opposite.”

Larry’s hands were at Sal’s backside, slipping underneath his shirt. He could feel the skin prick beneath his touch, and he smirked. Neither of them had ever gone quite so far as to grasp at what was hidden underneath clothing. It was new for both of them, and Larry couldn’t help but relish in Sal’s shifting as his hands ran up his sides, trailing up to Sal’s chest. Sure, he had a purpose, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to enjoy this interaction for a few more seconds.

Larry leaned into Sal closer, head right above Sal’s shoulder, tilted towards his neck. His amusement only grew at Sal’s reaction when his thumbs circled his nipples, teasing them into hardness. If it hadn’t been for his own mask, his mouth would probably already be sucking against the skin right below the other’s jawline. How he wished he could see Sal’s reaction to that. For now, though, he let his hands drift down the hero’s abdomen.

“No, it’s not that I’m opposed in the slightest,” Malice husked. His hands dipped to the front of Surge’s pants, and he felt the other tense, no doubt thinking he knew where Malice was going to traverse next. The villain huffed, disapproval in his eyes. In a flash, one of his hands jerked to the pocket where Surge had pocketed his recovered knife, flashing it out. “It’s that I don’t trust you,” he snarled.

His free hand shot up to grab Sal’s occupied hand, not completely disarming him however. Instead, he tapped his own knife against Sal’s chest, the tip of the blade aggravating a few threads. “Drop the knife and turn around like a good boy,” Malice suggested, voice sickeningly sweet. “Or tell me who your sidekick is.”

At the second request, he pressed the knife down harder. It wasn’t nearly enough to do anything but add pressure. “I can promise your safety if you behave. Now c’mon, what will it be?”

Sal’s smile faltered, the corners of his mouth turning downwards into a puckish frown. Uneasiness was beginning to settle in. 

He shifted forwards, trying to press the lower half of his body against Malice's despite the knife prodding at his chest. He understood very well he needed to appear desperate in these next following moments to save his ass. Amidst Malice's hand grabbing at his wrist and the other withholding his other knife, he needed to at least gain himself some space to do what he wanted. With the worrisome sensation gnawing at his gut increasing with every second that passed, he simply didn't allow his gaze to shift to the knife in his hand. He was determined to hold his ground and not show any weakness. 

"By the way you're dancing over the options you've given me, it seems like you just want to get this over with. Do you not want to have some fun beforehand? Don't wanna watch me undress for you?" His eyes glinted at him, his unoccupied hand slipping down towards Malice’s groin. "It won't speak much of anything if no one knows, now does it?"

His warm palm formed against the crotch of Malice's pants as he gave a suggestive squeeze, a scanty mischievous smile working its way onto his maimed lips. "How many fingers do you think of mine it'd take to accommodate your size? Two? Three?" He leaned up, the knife dragging, digging further into his chest making him wince in discomfort. " _ Four _ ?"

He settled himself back down, forcing out a counterfeit whine, "Am I not allowed to touch you before any of this?" After Malice had gotten the opportunity to slip his hands up his shirt and toy with his nipples, he wanted to at least get a chance to do the same. It was only fair, right?

And what better way to rile Malice up than by watching Sal flush as he finally got the chance to touch him without any pesky fabricated boundaries? Scale his fingers against every ridge and bump embedded into his skin... 

"I'm kind of sad." He stated abruptly. "You went all out of your way to convince me to take off my mask, and you're telling me you don't wanna see my face as every inch of you sinks its way into me?" He let out a disapproving puff of air and shrugged. "I guess if that's how you want it then."

_ Damn _ , he thought. He was cruising by with all of this, and so effortlessly making it seem ingenuous? Perhaps it's really what he wanted too.

His eyes drifted to the stray dark wooden coffee table residing in the living room. "How about we both put our knives down. We don't exactly need them for what we'll be doing, right?" He wiggled his wrist, the one currently in Malice’s unwanted grasp.

"How about I go set them all down―" He sighed mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. "Right, right, you don't trust me. How about you go set them all down?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion. " _ All of them _ ."

Malice had seen this act before. Not from Sal, but he was no stranger to the front that the hero was putting on. That didn’t stop Sal’s words from effecting him though. He could feel his body heat at every teasing word and playful grasp. And by god, he wanted nothing more than to tear his way inside Sal’s body. The money he’d pay to hear the pained whines and blissful gasps... 

But Larry  _ wasn’t _ stupid.

His eyes narrowed as he lowered his hand, setting his knife down on the counter to the side of them before he reached out expectantly to Surge. He’s almost surprised at how willing the knife was given up, but he tried not to dwell on the thought for too long as he set it down along with the other. “Do you have any more on you?”

Despite the question, he didn’t actually wait for Sal’s answer. If he was in the hero’s position, he wouldn’t reveal if he had a concealed weapon. He’d wait until they were in the thick of it before pulling it out and shoving it down his enemy’s back. He doesn’t think Sal is cut out for that, but he also didn’t think Surge would ever dirty talk him. The hero was full of surprises he supposed.

Larry’s hands started at Sal’s shoulders, patting his arms and torso down. He could feel the other stiffen. Indignation maybe? Larry didn’t care in the end. His safety was more important than jumping headfirst into a quickie. Before his hands moved to Sal’s waist however, they found their way to his hair. He highly doubted the hero was pocketing any sort of weapon in his mane, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Sorry love, but I hope you can understand that I have to do this,” Malice falsely apologized before he’s dipping down to crouch. He made quick work, hands only feeling up Surge’s inner thighs a second longer than they needed to. By the time he’s down to the bluenet’s ankles, there’s no sign of another knife hidden anywhere. Could Sal really only be carrying one? He let out a distressed sigh before his fingers were undoing the laces of Sal’s boots. The shoes were off soon enough, leaving Sal in just socks, and there really wasn’t another knife.

Larry stood, eyebrows knitted together. Maybe he was giving Sal too much credit. “Let me just,” Malice muttered as he leaned over Sal, hand grabbing the two discarded knives, “get rid of these.” 

Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t place it, but he knew something wasn’t what it seemed to be. His fingers had a death grip on the two knives as he walked away from Sal towards the coffee table. Each step felt like a death march, but Sal never attacked him from behind. Larry glanced at him when he reached the table and dropped the two knives atop it, but Sal’s just looking at him expectantly. He hated it.

Larry shook his head, the knife in his boot suddenly feeling like a scalding iron. He knew Sal didn’t trust that he only had one, but he’s not going to explicitly reveal it until he had to. The hero might not have been carrying anything on him, but that didn’t make him any less deadly. Larry knew what Surge’s capable of. He’s seen the sparks fly off of him.

It’s stupid, but he tried it nonetheless as he walked back to Surge. His mind tried to tap into Surge’s current emotion, trying to gain any form of intel, but he’s immediately rejected. He minutely winced as he can all but feel the invisible barriers fly up, caging him out. At least he knew Surge wasn’t in love with him.

“I knew you’d come around to me eventually,” Malice purred as he took his place in front of Surge once more. He didn’t know, but he was playing along with whatever game the hero was spitting at him. “I mean, it’s not every day you have a god offering to fuck you.”

He’s putting it on thick. He’s trying to get Sal to protest, to weed him out, but there’s no objection. It simultaneously stroked Larry’s ego and frustrated him. He didn’t let it show through, focusing his attention on unbuttoning one of the pockets on his cargo pants. He didn’t need to look to Sal to read the other’s surprise as his fingers fished out a condom and small bottle of lube.

“I promise I don’t carry this around everywhere,” Malice joked before setting the two on the counter. “But it’s hard not to hope when I’m fighting with someone as gorgeous as yourself.”

Sal’s about to make some sort of comment. Larry didn’t care. He didn’t need the other to falsely flirt with him. No, what he needed was to protect himself. “If you really want me,” Malice let his doubt fill his words, “then we’re going to do this my way.”

Maybe he didn’t need to state that. When had he ever done anything Surge’s way? Still, he’s on edge and grasping at straws. “You’re going to turn around. And then, you’re going to be a good little slut and let me fuck you from behind,” Malice ordered, voice dropping. His eyes were still searching, trying to find any rejection in Surge’s body language. “Understand?”

A lopsided smile surfaced against Sal’s face as he nodded more vigorously than he formerly intended to. "Oh, I understand perfectly."

Sal's simper brightened as he stepped forward, pressing his hands and body against Malice’s chest, looking up at him. "But at least let me help you out some before we get to the good parts." He pleaded, his hands snaking their way down to Malice's belt. He broke eye contact momentarily as he unbuckled it, yanking it from the belt loops.

He dropped it to the floor. Then his hands were moving back up, rubbing against the arms and torso of Malice's jet black hoodie. Sal felt Malice stiffen for just a second, but then slackened as if it never happened.

His fingers slipped into the front pocket of the garment, empty he remarked. He almost grimaced. He suspected more out of Malice but realized he wasn't done quite yet. He twisted his arm back to clutch at the condom Malice had discarded, eyeing the man so innocently as he crotched down to be optic level with the prow of his pants. He unbuttoned them, gradually unzipping them only to stop and then look up at Malice. "You don't mind if I do this, right?" Surge cocked his head to the side. He was playing the character just right he deemed. "You really wanna do all the work? What's the fun in that? At least let me prove myself useful enough to slip this bad boy on."

He went to slip the band of his boxers down, accidentally brushing his hand against his dick but instantaneously stilled as he scoffed, palm still very much on his semi. "Silly me." He continued, "I didn't finish your pat-down, did I?”

Larry froze, mind racing and not just because Sal’s hand was on his dick. There were so many things he could do in that instant. He could knee Sal square in the face, pull up his pants, and leave. Which honestly, seemed like the most sensible option. But they’d gotten so far, and Larry was finally starting to believe that Sal might actually be truly planning to put out. It’d be a sad, sad day if Larry walked out and missed the opportunity of claiming Surge.

Still, he knew Sal was going to finish patting him down, and he knew that the other would find the knife. He could brandish it first, point it at Surge, and threaten him, but that seemed like a mood killer. On the other hand, he didn’t want Surge finding it, getting upset, and trying to use it against him. With a sigh, Larry made what is probably the dumbest decision of his entire villainous career yet.

“I have another knife in my right boot,” he admitted, instantly regretting his decision. He hated this, not being in control. This  _ wasn’t _ him. “It’s the only weapon on me. In my pockets is just my phone and more condoms.” Malice added with a wink, “so don’t fear about running out.”

Despite the joke, he was considerably more nervous than he should’ve been as Sal’s fingers slipped into his shoe and pulled the knife out. However, he was pleased to find that the other only gave him a disapproving hum before putting the knife down on the ground. The relief didn’t last long before Surge’s hands were back at his boxers, and Larry realized he couldn’t do this. Everything just felt so off. He needed some of his power back.

“Wait, stop.” Larry’s hands were grabbing Sal’s, forcing them off. “I don’t trust you. I need to trust you.” His words were frantic, rushing on top of each other. Sal gave him a new look, one that Larry hadn’t seen before. Disbelief that he was rejecting Sal for a favor he called in? Exasperation at the hypocrisy behind the statement? Larry didn’t know, but he couldn’t find himself caring enough to ask.

“I’m getting my phone,” Malice narrated as his hand moved to fish the device out of one of his pockets. He didn’t want Sal thinking he was pulling out a concealed weapon and stabbing him after all. “And I want you to call your partner.”

Larry knew Sal was about to object as soon as the phone came into view. “No, this isn’t about revealing his identity. I just need you to call him and tell him that you left this scene awhile ago. That you’re safely in your dorm, studying for an exam.” He wasn’t looking at Sal as he explained, too busy punching in his passcode and navigating to the phone’s keypad. When he did finally glance at Sal, he wasn’t too surprised to see an incredulous look on his face. “I just,” Malice stammered, “need you to do this one thing for me. You have my word that I’m not going to hurt you, and I need you to do this, so I can trust you.”

He held the phone down to Surge, and he felt pathetic. He felt like he was groveling, and Malice did  _ not  _ grovel. Yet, he could still feel himself digging his self-loathing hole down further with the next word that came out of his mouth. “ _ Please _ .” Oh god, he was begging. There was no way he’s ever-living that down.

_ Recover this. _

Larry wasn't sure there was a way to make a full recovery from his wounded pride, but he could try. “I mean, if you wanted, we could make it into a game,” he suggested. One of his own legs pushed forward between Sal’s crouched ones, shin pressing firmly between the other’s hips. “You call him and tell him everything’s fine without him catching onto what you’re  _ really _ doing,” he husked, feeling Sal’s legs tense as his own grinded further. Larry waved the phone further in front of Sal, waiting for an answer.

Sal gawked at the phone completely captivated, shifting against Malice's leg unknowingly. "Game on." He finally murmured invitingly as he seized the phone from his grasp. 

Was this the same villain from before? Malice couldn't have had Sal duped had it not been for the uncharacterized plea. He firmly admitted he could get used to him practicing his manners now and again.

Sal’s fingers moved to hover over the phone's keyboard before he peered up at him, "you're to be quiet though." He glanced back down to the phone before joining his statement with a firm, " _ completely quiet _ ." He punched in Shade's number before pressing the cold glass against his ear. It rang, and it rang, and then finally, a voice emitted from the other end. Surge couldn't help but smile at the sound, half heartedly wishing he was with the blondie rather than Malice.

"Yeah, it went alright." He murmured, acknowledging Shade's- Travis’s -question on how his so-called mission had ended. Anticipatedly, he persisted on about how he was still out and about doing his own business. He proceeded through the standard inquiries, questioning if Sal had any extensive wounds needing to be tended to, which Sal reassured he had departed without a scratch and that there was no need for him to come rushing back. Sal quickly noted Malice seemed to be growing impatient as the seconds rolled by and his leg started prodding, rubbing against the tent of Sal’s pants. He let out a soft strained hum as he continued.

"I'm back in the dorm studying for one of my upcoming exams." His eyes darted up to Malice's who he swears eyes were crinkling beneath that mask as if he was smirking as he pressed his leg harder against Surge. He strategically covered up the keen with a forced laugh. "Might just go out for a bite in a few."

Travis soundsed bummed at that, which left Sal backpedaling, saying they could always get something to eat together another time.

Larry couldn’t help but frown as a smile permanently cracked Sal’s lips. Maybe he should’ve chosen something else to prove he could trust Sal because his mood was only souring as the smiles grew and light laughter filled the air. He supposed that Surge and his partner weren’t just required to work together. They must’ve been friends on the outside with all the frivolous chatter. His ears perked as Sal rescheduled dinner plans. Definitely friends, perhaps more than friends? No, that’d be foolish. Larry knew firsthand how emotions could muddle work relations, and he doubted the two heroes would be stupid enough to start dating each other.

Sal wasn’t aware of his enemy’s disapproval. Travis and he exchanged a few more words, and Surge was  _ trying _ to just get off the call already. The moment he wished him a nice night, he was snatching the phone away from his face to end the call. He proceeded to glare at Malice, but then his expression softened as he looked down at the caller's contact history, "You promised me this isn't about revealing his identity and therefore I need to do this to trust  _ you _ on  _ your _ word." He sincerely wanted to, trust Malice and all, but it was impossible to after being aware of his true nature. One tolerant moment wasn't enough to push Sal to revert to his naïve ways, despite how greatly Larry might've craved it. 

He pressed his finger against the most recent call and swiped left, bringing up the delete option. Of course, the phone asked if he was sure, and he was sure he was  _ sure _ . With a finishing tap, the call log was gone. Surge directed the phone around, returning it to the other with a reassuring smile.

Larry’s discontent only grew as Sal deleted the number from his phone. The call wasn’t about identifying the mystery man, but that didn’t mean he didn’t make plans to try and call the number afterward. He felt almost numb as he took his phone back before pocketing it, and he tried so desperately to shake the feeling. Sal was humping his leg like a bitch in heat after all while the mystery caller was none the wiser. Somehow, that almost made his mood worse. He wanted whoever was on the other end of the line to  _ know _ what Sal was doing, to know that he was getting undressed for Malice.

"Is that sufficient enough for you? He's not coming." Sal proclaimed. He seriously craved to mention Shade was his dormmate. He wasn't going to appear anyways until he returned to the dorm and Sal wasn't there, and only if Sal wasn't there without a premature notice. But he merely trashed the idea as too much information as fast as it arose. He ought to have given Malice props for thinking so onward of himself.

One of his fingers inched towards the knife on the floor, "just getting rid of this." He stated, sliding the knife across the room. His eyes diverted back to him as he grinded himself pathetically against Malice's leg. "Is that enough for you to trust me now?" His eyes drew down to Malice's boxers, and as his eyes flicked back up to meet his once more, he halted his movements. "Can I get back to what I was doing now, that alright with you?"

Sal’s words barely registered to Larry, and he blinked as he felt those hands once again return to his hips. His mind was scrambled for a second, trying to latch onto what the other just said. When the words registered, Larry wanted to say no. Truthfully, he didn’t think there’d ever be a day where he could completely trust Surge. He would rather have him bound, unable to do anything. He knew that wasn’t realistic though. He also knew that Saal  _ did _ fulfill his request, and if the hardness rutting against his leg was anything to judge by, maybe he could trust that Sal actually wanted this as much as he did.

“Go ahead,” Larry finally purred. He felt his body heat up further as his boxers were finally pulled down enough for him to be exposed. The sight of Sal beneath him, hands trying to tear into the condom package ripped an involuntary groan from him, and he could feel himself twitch in excitement. Given their close proximity, he doubted it was unnoticed by Sal. Once the packet was finally torn into, and small hands were rolling it onto his length, Larry could feel most of his worries being drowned out. But, his eyes still stared Sal down as he slowly stood up.

“You ready?” Malice didn’t wait for an answer in his typical fashion. Instead, he spun Sal around before placing his hand on the center of the other’s back, pushing down. Sal finally bent over the counter at Malice’s guidance, and Larry can’t help but to let out a low whistle. Even with Sal fully clothed, the sight was enough to make him bite at his bottom lip. Not wanting to waste more time, he began to work Sal’s pants down over his hips but paused. He supposed there was a question he should ask. For one, to know how easy this was going to be. Secondly, because the morbid curiosity was eating at him.

Larry tried to appear unbothered as he ceased the undressing to pull the bottle of lube closer by. “So tell me, is this your first time?” He sincerely doubted it from the earlier dirty talk, but he could hope.

Sal expected Malice couldn’t see the way his brows furrowed at his question. The question shouldn't have been so hard to answer, but he knew Malice. He  _ knew  _ how tantrum-like the other could act when things didn’t go his way. His first time? He ransacked through his brain attempting to pinpoint how his answer would make him respond, and whether or not he should even acknowledge it. Could he muster playing off he didn't hear his question? Probably not. There was no guarantee he wouldn't just ask again. 

God, he couldn't even express the immense urge he had to hit his head against that very counter right then and there. Sal could be reasonable about this, sugar coat things a taste and hope Malice wasn't too disappointed. But then again, why should he care about misleading him or not? It's not like this had any significant meaning to either of them. It was a hookup, nothing more, nothing less. 

He puffed out a shaky sigh, defeated. There was no way he could lie about something like this without getting his ass handed to him in the future or potentially embedding Shade's life in jeopardy. This man wouldn't go out of his way to murder someone he slept with, right? 

Sal opened his mouth to affirm Malice but bit back his words. Would this have been a hell of a lot more enjoyable had Malice not asked such a painstaking question? Fucking surely. He let out a troubled sigh and spilled. "No, this is not my first time." He anxiously affirmed. There was a sinking sensation in his gut as he let those very words pool out of his mouth but he continued. "It's been quite a while though." He voiced softly, setting his chin down on the counter as his pitch betrayed him, letting off a pitiful tone instead of an informative one. 

With upcoming school exams, his weekly routine of tutoring, and being a hero on the side, Sal and Travis hardly had time to be intimate. Occasionally there would be those late nights where Sal would crawl into bed with Travis and Travis would, of course, stir awake with a dopey smile smeared on his face as his hand would snake its way into his boxers.

Giving or receiving a handjob before bed was almost a weekly routine of theirs. Travis would press sweet kisses to his face afterward, and more times than not, they'd take a quick shower in the morning together. It was endearing and considerate, and it was the most they could offer one another in their pinch of time, but Sal couldn't help but desire a bit more than those bittersweet nights. He shoo his head, trying to derail himself from the saddening train of thought.

"Still interested in that show, I offered earlier?" He turned around slightly, holding out his hand for the bottle of lube. "Might need you to cut in at some point though." He wiggled his digits at Malice. "My fingers aren't exactly as long as _yours_ are."

“More than interested,” Malice grinned in response. He lessened his hold on Sal, so the other can stand back up fully, once again facing Malice. Sure, he wasn’t exactly ecstatic at Sal’s revelation, but he never truly believed the other was a blushing virgin. He couldn’t be too upset over something he already expected, could he?

Larry’s hands grabbed the waistband of Sal’s pants again, this time fully pulling them down. He merely watched as Sal kicked them off from his ankles. His eyes glazed at the sight of Sal in just his shirt and boxers. Before he could even think about stopping himself, his hand was pressing against Sal’s hard on, gripping it through the other’s boxers. Even through the fabric barrier, he could feel the other’s excitement as precum wetted the material. But what Larry found himself beaming about even more, is that Sal feels small. The idea of the hero being below average is oddly endearing.

His assumption was proven correct as he slid Sal’s underwear off, crouching so he could slip it off the other’s legs. From just the dry humping against his leg, Sal was fully hard, and Larry gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he truly hadn’t slept with anyone in a while. A soft chuckle reverberated in his chest, hopefully too low for Sal to pick up.

Larry slowly stood, hands gripping Sal’s hips. “Let’s get you up here,” he murmured, and the other is surprisingly pliant in his grasp as he hoisted him up to sit on the edge of the counter. His hands moved from Sal’s hips to his knees, forcing his legs open, and for a moment, he just held them spread. He didn’t try to hide his unabashed staring, too invested in the moment.

Sal Fisher was worked up because of him, and Larry found a dark smile covering his lips. A good part of him wanted to just fuck into Sal, hear him cry out, go too rough, remind the hero who he was spreading his legs for. Larry handed Sal the lube, watching with a predatory gaze as the cap was popped open.

Larry’s hands never left their place on Sal’s legs as the other leaned back and finally pushed a finger into himself. The brunet could only bite his lips, feeling himself stiffen as Sal fucked himself with his fingers, getting ready for his cock. By the time Sal was moving on to two fingers, Larry’s beyond impatient. He wanted to be inside the hero  _ now. _

“Okay baby, it’s my turn,” he whispered, hands finally moving to find the bottle of lube. He took the time to make sure his fingers were properly slicked up because he didn’t plan on stopping to add more. “Lean back a little more.”

After Sal shifted back some more, he pressed the tip of his middle finger against his entrance, feeling it penetrate him with ease. For not the first time that day, Larry wass awestruck by the fact that this was Sal beneath him, not some rando. His eyes darkened at the thought, and he quickly switched from one finger to three, thrusting them in up to his knuckles. He could feel Sal stiffen, but he didn’t wait before he’s setting a rough pace, finger fucking his enemy. 

It was only a few seconds before Larry felt Sal’s thighs involuntary press closer together, and he slowed down. This time, he slowly dragged his fingers out, pressing them up against Sal, until he got the same reaction. Completely stopping his thrusting, he just took the time to run his fingertips against the spot, watching Sal begin to fall apart from beneath him. He wanted to tease the hero until he was begging for Larry to finish him, but he simply didn’t have the patience for that. Instead, he pulled out. This time, grabbing the lube to coat his dick.

“Can you lay completely back for me?” Larry’s actions didn’t reciprocate the same softness in his words. He immediately jerked Sal’s hips to the edge of the counter as soon as his back was against it. There was an itch at the back of Larry’s mind, telling him he was forgetting something, but he batted it away. There was no way he was stressing over anything when Sal was spreading his legs, and he was pressing his cock against the other’s entrance.

_ Oh god, this is actually happening. _

Larry let out a low groan as soon he entered Sal, slowly pushing his hips into the other. He was so fucking tight, and Larry felt like he might pass out just from the sight of the hero’s ass taking him. By the time he was close to bottoming out, he was becoming severely aware of just what he exactly forgot. Having sex while wearing his mask always became unbearably hot and stuffy. One of his hands reached back into his hood, and he could feel Sal’s eyes on him as his hand fumbled to undo the lower strap of his mask before he pulled the chin of it slightly off his face. 

Sal ventured to stifle the strained sounds that threatened to weep past his lips as Malice sank his way into him, baring his teeth against the meat of his palm.

Perhaps he somewhat underestimated how considerable Malice's size was when he slipped the condom on, or perhaps he didn't really take much of a notice at the moment. 

_ It was definitely the latter of the two. _

But at least he was going considerably slow― his untrained eyes caught a glimpse of movement and his gaze was sent barreling towards Malice's hand slipping into the back of his hood. He waited for the fabric to drape down, slowly fall off of his head for an accidental reveal. Who would think his plan could provide meaningful results and information so soon?

The time didn't come. 

Neither does the so-called meaningful identity reveal.

Larry ignored the stare, slightly pausing as he finally felt their hips connect. Without warning, he gave a small, sharp thrust of his hips. He knew it was far too soon, that the motion had to be more uncomfortable for Sal than pleasant, but he couldn’t help himself. Seeing Sal in pain was equally as thrilling as seeing him blissed out. 

Sal was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the unfastening of clasps and he almost forgot what position he was in until he's sent forward with the snap of Malice's hips. Unseen pressure radiated up to his sides as he pressed his hands firmly against his mouth, muffling a sharp keen as his eyes closed. Sal took a sharp, shaky breath as his eyes opened to lock with that stupid fucking mask, shooting him a look ripping with venom.

“So how’s it feel to have all of the villain inside you?” Larry teased. The words were accompanied by a softer, more merciful roll of his hips.

  
  


Sal needed a second to adjust, not just to his size, but to gather up his answer.

Not that he's entirely sure Malice was going to willingly give up either to him.

It took him an extra second for the question to fully register and he seethed. "Fuck you." He groaned against his hands. "Wasn't fucking ready." The merciful roll of his hips made Sal stop short as his mouth gaped. It was just so much so soon. Despite the odds, Sal tried to ground down against him, hoping to make the pain subside with his own movements. He hisses in displeasure, glaring at Malice as if _he_ was the one who forced him to test the waters. "Why'd you fucking―" He pressed his hands against his eyes. He was becoming increasingly aware of who's cock was inside of him, and god, he can't bear to look at him right now. "Push it in so fast." 

He couldn't make up his mind on whether or not to squirm or just lie there for as long as it took until he’s completely sure he could handle whatever fucking Malice entitled to him. This wasn't the worst-case scenario though, Sal noted that much. He knew a lot better than to take Malice's makeshift tenderness with anything but a grain of salt. 

He could easily have his way with him.

"You just―" He shifted around, trying to ease up on how full he fucking feels. "Fucking go around spearing people with that  _ thing _ ?"

Larry couldn’t keep the grin off his face at all of Sal’s snide remarks. It was oddly amusing to see the hero struggle to take him, and Larry just wanted to grab his legs and keep him still as he pounded into him. He wanted to hear those pained whimpers in full volume, get the other to cry out in anguish. However, he calmed himself and decided to pull out instead. 

“What? Are you realizing exactly how much you bit off?” Larry’s hands ran up Sal’s thighs, almost soothing before they left his body to grab the lube again instead. He gave a slight shake of his head as he uncapped the bottle again. This time, he poured a more than adequate amount into the palm of his hand before slowly stroking his cock with it. His eyes lazily settled on Sal’s face as he coated himself, giving a few more pumps than what was probably necessary. God, he just wanted to see that face flush and moan.

“Never mistook the great Surge to be a cry baby,” Larry started, taking his hand off of himself to grab the lube once more. The time he poured it in his hand, and watched the viscous liquid drip down over his fingers. “But I guess ya learn something new every day.”Larry’s clean hand grabbed one of Sal’s legs, right behind the knee, and forced them to spread once more. He didn’t bother with any teasing this time. He really just wanted to get this show on the road. It was honestly so merciful of him that he wasn’t taking Sal right now. Larry pressed three of his fingers into Sal, bottoming them out to the knuckles rather quickly once more.

Sal clenched his teeth at Malice's unforeseen remarks. After all, it wasn't his fault he wasn't used to someone manhandling him. Someone being completely and utterly merciless when it came to something that was supposed to be euphorically intimate? Wasn't his usual walk in the park. His mind started to spiral. Where were the light caresses, the endearing kisses, the constant praise? His mind raked against the undeniable differences between Malice and his roommate, but unfortunately, he settled on there being absolutely no similarities.

He was so painfully accustomed to copious amounts of foreplay, being smothered with verbal and physical affection to the point it could make a tooth rot with how much sweetness Travis would put forth. Sal's head turned to the side as Larry's fingers worked long and hard inside of him, his teeth worrying into his bottom lip to muffle any sounds threatening to escape him as his hands twisted and tangled into his hair as he continued on his internal tangent.

He wished he could bask in that kind of love with Travis more often, but it took so much time. Time he simply didn't have any more with all the shit that was continuously piling on his plate.

Sal would do almost anything to sense some sort of softness in the man in front of him. To see  _ Travis _ in Malice. He missed his endeavors with his roommate and he was sure as hell not used to taking someone of Malice's caliber. In fact, not used to taking anyone that isn't Travis.

Malice gave his fingers a few thrusts before his grip on Sal’s leg turned bruising, and he forced in his pinky as well. He wasn’t giving the other time to adjust as he fingers Sal, going fast and thorough. The process wasn’t really about being pleasurable for either of them more than it was about getting Sal open enough to take his dick without yowling like a cat in pain.

Even as Malice shoved his pinky into the mix of fingers, Sal was trying his best not to voice how the change of pace was making Sal ache for some gentleness to his actions. On the bright side, at least Malice was doing a more thorough job of opening him up this time.

“Are you ready now, princess?” Larry’s voice carried unconcealed annoyance as he slipped his fingers out of Sal. He didn’t wait for a response however. His hands moved to grab Sal’s hips, pulling him back to the edge of the counter from where he had previously moved away. Larry hastily aligned himself up with Sal before pushing in once more. A sharp breath escaped him as he bottomed out within seconds. Sure, he might’ve prepped the other some more, but that had used up the last of his patience. Now, he was just ready to fuck the other into the counter.

Larry’s hips gave a few quick and shallow thrusts into Sal, and a low moan was torn from his throat. “Is that any better? Or are you still going to complain?” 

Sal's head jerked to look at Malice as he tore himself away from his thoughts but his head was quickly sent falling back against the counter with a thud due to the short delivery of small thrusts given. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to work up a response between his jagged irregular breathing. 

Malice pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into Sal. “Not that I particularly care either way.”

The quiet sound of his breathing was short-lived as he sputters, biting back a moan with the return of roughness, his back arches up, eyes fluttering shut as Malice's words fall on deaf ears. "Fucking Christ—" 

Sal cracked his eyes open, and one of his hands that was previously fisted in his hair snaked its way down his body, wrapping around his cock to stroke himself leisurely. There was too much unfamiliarity in the mix for Sal's taste, so he thought if he jerked it while Malice fucked him it would ground himself a bit better. Give himself some control. His gaze shifted to the ceiling as he tried to focus on his hand at work. "You're so much." He murmured mindlessly. "So much." He pressed a thumb against the head of his cock and whined at the overwhelming light headedness washing over him. " _ Finally _ ," he breathed. Action on his part was finally adding some much needed pleasure into the mix.

Malice's grip against Sal’s hips turned bruising as he held the other in place, slamming back into him. He grunted as he tried to keep the same ferocity in his first thrust as he began to set a pace, aiming to render him unable to sit for a while. It’d be cute watching the other squirm around in his seat back at university, knowing he was the cause of the predicament.

Malice took a second to grind his hips against Sal, trying to push into him as much as his body would give. “What do you mean I’m so much? You act like you didn’t know who you were agreeing to fuck.” He dragged Sal down by the hips, trying to squash any possible remaining space between them. “It’s just like you to complain when the going gets too tough for your tastes.”

He couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him as he leaned over Sal, giving small, violent thrusts into him. It was getting increasingly hard to stammer out full sentences, and he could feel sweat beginning to slick his back underneath the hoodie. Still, that doesn't stop him from completely harassing the man below him. “Guess that just comes from you being a shitty hero.”

Sal mentally groaned. There Malice went again, demeaning him by calling him a shitty hero. But, realistically if he was such a shitty hero, he wouldn't have lasted this long, right? That's just common knowledge, but by judging Malice's mindset and recent verbiage, he'd just call it off as some sort of twisted dumb luck on his part. Did he genuinely have no idea the countless amount of villains he'd detained with the help of Shade? The number of times he tricked him just to leave unscathed? 

He grunted out loud. He'd had enough of the same insult, it held no meaningful weight at this point. 

"Fuck—" Sal sucked a harsh breath inbetween his teeth, his face contorting in all sorts of ways as his mouth struggled to try and stop his mindless panting. There was just too much going on, too much talking, too much movement, too much thought. Everything was becoming blissfully and yet simultaneously agonizingly overwhelming and he could feel that familiar sensation pool in his groin, but frankly, he wasn’t entirely ready to be finished. And better yet, he wouldn't dare indulge in giving Malice the sheer satisfaction of thinking he got him off. His hand stopped working to stroke himself, more so he's focused on sending a hateful glare up at Malice as he spat out his last word. " _ You _ ."

Despite Sal's words of distaste, his hands were feverishly grasping and grabbing the front of Malice's hoodie, pulling him closer and closer until he's as flush as he can get against his body.

"Slow down. You're being so rough." He rasped, chest rising and falling in rampant intervals. He can't make up his mind on telling this piece of shit off or just  _ letting go _ and attempting to enjoy himself.

The fabric grasped in his hands bunched as his loose grip tightened into a fist. It offered some kind of leverage for the intense feeling radiating throughout his body.

" _ You're _ just too much. You know like—" He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed as he last minutely decided his best option here was to shut up and not embarrass himself further. There was no doubt in his mind he was going to either regret this later on or feel complete and utter shame the moment he slipped underneath his sheets later on tonight.

Either way, Sal knew damn well he was fucked.

  
  


“I can’t believe-“ A strangled moan choked Larry. “That you’re going to wrinkle my shirt like that after I’m giving you the honor of being fucked by me.” It was more than just the threat of having to iron the hoodie that irked him. He despised the position. It felt borderline intimate, and that was not the angle he was going for with Surge. He just wanted to pump and dump. Hadn’t this hero ever heard of a casual hookup? It didn’t seem like it from the way he was hanging onto him like a scared lover, and it made Malice’s lips purse out of disgust. He’d rather Sal,be raking his nails down his back or even trying to choke him.  _ Anything _ would've been better than the soft position. 

Malice’s hand moved from Surge’s hip to the other’s cock, hand wrapping around and almost dwarfing the puny thing. He bit back a taunt as he started jerking him off, hoping that Surge would just cum already. He still had to study for the physics quiz after this.

_ Fuck, he still had to study for the physics quiz after this. _

He started stroking Surge off faster at that thought, annoyance pricking. He was fucking Nockfell’s greatest hero. That should be like something straight out of one of his wet dreams, yet he haf to rush it now.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as the hand he still had on Sal’s hip moved to his thigh. He shuddered as he pushed the other’s leg farther apart, hips frantically grinding into Sal. It was so pathetically hot under his mask and hoodie, and he wasn’t sure if the breathless feeling was from him running out of oxygen or-

His hips stuttered, and his eyes snapped shut. Before he could even open them again, he was bracing himself on top of Sal, trying hard not to fully collapse against him. He couldn’t help the breathy noises that left him as his hips still languidly worked in and out of Sal as he finished cumming inside the other.. 

The searing temperature eventually dulled down to just a gentle warmth, and he could eventually catch his breath again. Apparently the breathlessness wasn’t from his mask suffocating him.

He stayed still for a second, laying there with his hand awkwardly pinned between them and his cock still inside Surge as his heavy breaths stabilized. Even then, he didn’t particularly want to stand back up. He was sure Sal would have some cutting remark about Malice finishing first, but he didn’t care. Hell, he didn’t care enough to even finish Sal off with the anxiety of his physics grade hanging over his head.

Malice let out one long, slow breath before pulling himself back up. He gritted his jaw as he paid no attention to Surge, instead finally pulling out. His annoyance only grew deeper as he realized he had to tie his condom off to dispose of later. He couldn’t exactly leave his DNA at a crime scene.

“That was… fun.” He breathily laughed.

Sal's hands languidly reached up to rub at his face, borderline due to the frustration of being left completely unsated as Malice pulled out, but mostly due to the embarrassment that tinged deep within his chest. Now wasn't the time to feel guilty though. He was still sprawled out naked after all, just laying flat against a countertop that he was starting to realize was grotesquely sticking to his back.

"Fun." He parroted in a sheepish tone as he took a nice steady breath, merely bracing himself as he heaved himself upwards into a sitting position. Nothing quite prepared him for the ache that pulsated up his sides once he was upright. He slouched, brows knitted together into a tight line as he set out on avoiding any eye contact with the other.

God, Malice's grip on his sides was anything but lackluster or kind. He caught sight of a few red splotches littering his hips. They looked almost like fingerprints- No, they  _ were  _ fingerprints. A small noise of distress left him as he peeled himself off the counter. Bruises weren't something he exactly wanted to think about right now, at least not without being in the comfort of his dorm.

He practically dragged himself to gather up the clothes Malice had pried off of him and left discarded on the floor. His legs felt like lead and yet, at the same time, completely jello-like, slowing his usual pace of movements. 

Things were suffocating, painfully silent as he pulled his garments back on. Malice also kept his silence as he fixed his pants back on right, zipping, buttoning, the usual gist of things. He thought about giving him a backhanded remark at the fact Sal had to tuck his still very much hard dick into his jeans. Being as Malice was a bunch of talk, talked of being a people pleaser, yet here Surge was with a still hard dick. 

He moved to collect his knife that Malice had set on the coffee table before their endeavors even started. If Sal had kept a close eye on him, he'd notice the stiffening of the other as his hand purchased with the blade before stuffing it into his hood pocket. 

Malice's shoulders instantly went lax. 

"Might not want to forget those." Sal muttered, vaguely gesturing to Malice's own knives. He didn't bother muttering a goodbye as his hand wrapped around the knob. He didn't have it in him. He wanted to get back to his university, finish himself off, and turn in for the night after a brief chit-chat with Travis.

  
With that to-do list, he left, leaving Malice behind to gather up his things, do a quick recheck of the place, making sure everything was in order. A little tidying up here and there before he rightfully decided to check out of the scene himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading that monster of a chapter. As always, comments are extremely appreciated.
> 
> Also, if you'd like to make friends who also like SF, come join this discord. It's 16+ though, so please respect that.  
> https://discord.gg/kYtz72e

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to learn more about the au/see other content of it or just SF content in general, come check out my tumblr, @VioletNuisance. Or, my insta, @NuancedArt.
> 
> Also, come and join this discord to meet and chat with some SF peeps:  
> https://discord.gg/sAVPDcf
> 
> Also, don't forget to leave a comment! We'd love to hear your opinions. :)


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